


And so they lived

by MandyHopesan



Series: The Detective, The Doctor and The Daughter [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Other, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Q is the third Holmes, Slow Burn, john's child - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandyHopesan/pseuds/MandyHopesan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John have moved back with Sherlock but life is wearing on the singel father. Insert one mummy Holmes and a relaxing trip to the countryside.  As John just tries to cope with life the Holmes tries to find out who Mary really is and if she is going to be a threat. And a couple of people needs to sort out their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A nap, a request and chocking news

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by loretta537 and MirrimBlackfox here comes a follow up on "first night back". Big thanks to MirrimBlackfox for brainstorming and the plot bunnies and both chocolate and thanks to my beta AlexBSChris. Hope you will enjoy it. I use J.W, S.H and Q to mark who's point of view it is.

~ JW ~

 

 _'Living with a three month old was hard work'_ John thought as he laid on the sofa with Amalia on his chest. They had been living in 221B for one week now and he and Sherlock had continued their sleeping arrangement as it was since that gave them the most sleep. Not that it was a lot of sleep. Amalia still wasn't used to the change and woke up all the time screaming. She was either hungry or just wanted to be carried around and rocked. John thought she did it so that he wouldn't forget her and leave her too, but then again what did he know. He spoke Sherlock not baby.

 However it was, he was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he slept more then a couple of hours in a night. Sherlock had been amazing babysitting Amalia the days he had gone to the clinic to work and even offered to be the one how walked around with Amalia then she woke them in the middle of the night. John had declined. He didn't want to bother his flatmate more then he already did and also he was the father - he needed to do this, take care of his little angel. 

Downstairs he heard the door open but didn't really pay it any mind. It was probably just Sherlock coming back from his case with Lestrade. He continued drifting enjoying the peace of Amalia's afternoon nap. However a quiet knock on the doorframe made him open his eyes and slowly sitting up still cradling Amalia to his chest with one hand under her butt and the other behind her head. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and turned to the older lady standing in the doorway.

 "Ah good afternoon Mrs. Holmes," he said softly not to disturb the sleeping baby.

 "Good afternoon John, you look terrible if I may say so," Mrs. Holmes said walking into the room. John let out a weak chuckle.

 "Yeah I do don't I? The little one is keeping me up."

 "Let me take care of her a bit and go have a nice nap," she suggested as she sat down next to John on the sofa and reached her arms out for the sleeping little girl.

 "Thank you for the offer, but it is fine really," John tried to brush her off.

 "John, give me Amalia and go to bed that's an order. You are of no use to her if you run yourself to the ground." John resisted for all of five second before giving up Mummy Holmes really did know how to get her will through.

 "Fine but just two hours," he said and carefully handed over the baby and took a look on his watch.

 "She will need to be feed in 35 minutes, don't forget to burp her and she will probably wanna play a bit after that..." John was cut off by Mrs. Holmes stern voice.

 "I know what to do John, I raised three boys remember?"

 "Yeah right okay I will just go then," John mumbled and already half asleep he shuffled across the living room, through the corridor past the bathroom and into the bedroom. As soon as he reached the bed he threw himself on it not even bothering to remove his clothes and fell asleep.

 

~ SH ~

 

Sherlock walked quietly up the stairs to 221B. He didn't hear any sounds from the flat so he hoped John had been able to take a nap. The doctor have been looking more and more worn for each day that past the last week, damn it, John moving back here was supposed to make it easier for him but he stubbornly refused all help. Sherlock quietly opened the door to the living room walking as softly as he could.

 "Mummy! What are you doing here?" he asked surprised then he saw his mother, Angelica Minerva Holmes, sitting in his sofa rocking little Amalia who seamed to be enormously fascinated by the golden locket that always hung around his mother's throat.

 "Visiting my grandchild of course," Angelica said opening the locker showing Amalia the two black and white pictures inside, one of his father Siger Charles Holmes and one of him, Mycroft and Emanuel.

 "She is not your grandchild mummy," he protested as he hung up his coat and scarf by the door.

 "She is John's."

 "You know that you don't have to hide your and John's relationship from me right?" she smiled.

 "I think you make a lovely couple."

 "We are not a couple," Sherlock denied flustered feeling all of 15 again when mummy had caught him kissing the gardeners son and decided that they needed to have The Talk. She had reassured him that she didn't care which sexual orientation he had but he had to be careful if he was going to have sex and please do read up on the subject, it had been a interesting experience but nothing he wished to repeat.

 "Uh uh and that's why he went directly into your bedroom then I ordered him to take a nap," she said giving him that look "l-know-it-all"-look all mothers seemed to prefect.

 "We share the bed because it benefits Amalia," Sherlock tried to explain but mummy didn't seem too impressed even if she did drop the subject.

 "However it may be you should take John and Amalia and come stay with us over the weekend. Your father would like to meet his granddaughter....."

 "Not your granddaughter," Sherlock tried to protest but was pointy ignored.

 "....or longer. John seems all worn out. Being on the countryside would maybe let him rest a bit and it would be good for Amalia to have some fresh air too."

 "Oh yes, his apparently assassin wife left him alone with a teething baby without any warning that do wear on people," Sherlock snarked.

 "None of that now," his mother scrolled and cuffed him over the head.

 "....and you should let your brother deal with her.... Mary wasn't it?"

 "She didn't show up on any of Mycroft records," Sherlock huffed annoyed.

 "And it is doubtful that that is her real name. As far as I know there is only one assassin foolish enough to run around giving away his real name." Both frowned, Emanuel should really have a talk with Bond about that.

 "I didn't meant Myc, Sherlock. He is not the one who is in the spy business," Mummy scrolled. _'Em? No he couldn't bother his little brother with something like this. It was private and beside...'_

 "She is gone now so it doesn't matter? I will talk with John about your offer when he wakes up. Now it was very nice of you to stop by and help John but it is almost mealtime for Amalia so you should leave." Sherlock said taking the girl from his mother and not so subtly pushing her towards the door.

 "Yes yes I'm leaving," Angelica said pressing first one kiss to Sherlock's cheek and then one to Amalia's forehead.

 

~ Q ~

 

"Nononono," Q mumbled beginning tapping furiously on his keyboard not aware how much he alarmed the minions closest by and the two double ohs in the room.

 "How?! How did this happened?! I checked on them the last 9 months! It can't be possible!" he continued to mumble as he access the camera he had placed out scanning them to find out the truth.

 "Q, what is happening?" it was 007 who had first dared to step forward to try to find out if there was as attack going on or something else equally dangerous. His partner in crime 006 already had his hand on his gun, thankfully still in its holster, and was scanning the room.

 "Stand down 007, 006, this does not concern you," Q ordered his eyes never leaving the screen there he went through all the security and trackers he had placed.

 "But it does if it upset you," 006 said even if he let go of his gun and stepped closer.

 "Yes please tell us," 007 asked putting one hand on Q:s neck working out the knots that had formed there - God damn double-0:s and their magical hands. Still shell-shocked Q let his fingers still and leaned back slightly in the amazing hand.

 "It seems like I have now got a niece," he said slowly staring at the screen and the offending email from his mother.

 "That's it?" 006 asked the tension visually leaving his body.

 "I believe congratulations is in order."

 "Yes, congratulation on becoming an uncle Q. I sure you will do wonderful, you have had a lot of practise minding Alec here," 007 chimed in avoiding the punch from 006.

 "No, you don't understand," Q protested.

 "Neither of my brothers have been in a relationship that could result in a baby or looked into adoption the last 9 months. It is not possible!"

 "Sometimes things happened that you don't know about Q," 007 tried to sooth him.

 "Beside how bad can it be?" 006 added. Q stared at him like he had grown a second head.

 "'How bad can it be?' 'How bad can it be?!" he sounded almost frantic now.

 "I'm considered the normal one in our family and you are asking how bad can it be?!" His hysterical rant was cut of by his private phone chiming with a text message. Quickly he scrambled to read it hoping that it somehow would magic away this mess.

  _'Don't panic. Mummy has been getting funny ideas since John and Amalia moved into Baker Street. S.H.'_

 Q quickly typed out a response.

_'I don't see how "come home over on the weekend and meet your niece" counts as "funny ideas". Q'_

 Not a second later he had a response.

_'As I said she got her own idea. Amalia, who have been referred to as your niece, is John's daughter and I and John is not in a relationship nor do I wish for it. S.H.'_

_'Doctor Watson's huh? And pull the other one Lock. Do I need to remind you in whose flat you got dead drunk in after the wedding to that Mary? Q'_

 "Doctor John Watson?" 007 asked who apparently had been reading over Q:s shoulder, bloody spies.

 "Was he in the army?"

 "Yes he was an army doctor, honourable discharge, not everyone recovers from a bullet to the shoulder Bond. Why do you know him?" Q said.

 "He patched me up once," was the only reply 007 gave and the phone chinned again with a new text.

_'Now don't be childish Em it does not suit you. And beside she left, which is why we have this mess. Gone back to her assassin business but that is your area of expertise isn't it. S.H'_

_'_ _Right, we will talk more this weekend. Guess I will pull of a visit, no need to risk mummy’s wrath. Q'_

 Q pressed send and cracked his fingers. Right there was work to be done if he would be able to take the weekend off and he needed to find out who this Mary really was. With a few taps he pulled up a picture of her on one screen and turned to the two double ohs which still was where.

"Do any of you recognise this woman?" he asked.

The game was on.


	2. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone (except Mycroft he has a situation to handel) is gathering up at the Holmes mansion for a relaxing weekend, some things are getting revealed and John is finely letting Sherlock help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Here comes the chapter!!! Thank you for all nice comments I got it really motivates me to keep writing :) I'm sorry it took this long to post life and homework ganged up against me. A big thanks to AlexBSChris who is my amazing beta and partner-in-brainstorming.

~ JW ~

 

John slowly blinked awake from his nap. His body and mind still felt heavy with sleep. He snuggled deeper under the blanket, eyes drifting shut again, trying to figure out what had woken him. He couldn't hear Amalia crying so that wasn't it but there were something else, some other sound. Singing. It was singing he heard. The singer had a very nice voice and even if John didn't recognise the song it was soothing. It had the rhythm of a nursery rhythm but it wasn't in a language he spoke. Slowly John became more and more aware of his surrounding and recognised the voice. Sherlock, Sherlock was singing.

Now finally awake John sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist. Someone, probably Sherlock, had removed his socks, jumper and trousers when he slept and tucked him in under the blanket. Huh, he must have been really tried to not have noticed that. Yawning he got up pulling on a pair of pyjamas pants and a jumper padding towards the living room. He leaned against the doorway and watched Sherlock walking around, rocking Amalia as he sung. John didn't say anything just stood there watching the peaceful sight before him. In the end it was Sherlock who broke the spell.

"Oh you are awake now," he said sitting down on the sofa, still holding Amalia, gesturing to John to do the same. John sat down and reached out to shift his daughter over to his arms.

"I didn't know that you sung," he said then he had his angel in his arms.

"It is rather hard to play the violin when the lady is damaging to be held," Sherlock said in a manner of explanation. John hummed stroking a blond lock out of Amalia's sleeping face.

"You could have woken me. I just took a nap while your mother visited," John said and then he remembered.

"Where is she by the way?"

"She went home hours ago," Sherlock answered shrugging, they was sitting so close on the sofa that their shoulders brushed. Unknowing John leaned into the contact until the meaning of Sherlock's words hit him and he sat up ramrod straight.

"WHAT?! She did what?! How long have I been asleep?" Sherlock schussed John hoping that his outburst hadn't woken Amalia. Thankfully the little girl just stirred a bit and took a firm grip of John's beige jumper.

"It doesn't matter. You needed the rest," he said.

"I didn't mean to dump over Amalia on you and your mum like that," John sighed and if he hadn't been holding the baby he would have buried his head in his hands.

"You are already doing so much for us, letting us stay here and all."

"No John it isn't a bother...." Sherlock trailed of looking a bit unsure.

"Before..." the detective took a deep breath. They didn't really talk about his death it was still a sore subject.

"Before, then we lived together you took care of me. And I let you. Now could you let me take care of you and Amalia?" Sherlock's words stunned John and all he could manage was a slow nod.

"Thank you," for a moment an almost fond smile played on Sherlock's lips before the detective pulled his expression together.

"Oh and mummy have invited us to come visit us over the weekend,"

Sherlock showed no mercy as he dropped the next bomb on John.

"Sherlock..." the doctor began to protest. Feeding the baby and changing the diapers was one thing but staying at the parents place for a weekend was in a completely different dimension, it had to be some borders.

"She wasn't asking John. Beside the countryside air could be good for you and Amalia. Giving you a chance the rest and recover" Sherlock said and the doctor had a sudden flashback of being ordered to bed a few hours earlier.

"Fine," he huffed rising up and offering the sleeping baby to Sherlock.

"Take Amalia and put her in the crib, I'm getting supper started."

 

~ SH ~

 

Sherlock got out of the car and stretched his legs. They arched a bit after the long train ride probably had to something to do with the odd angle they had been forced into by the small space between the seats. If they just had increased the spaces with 8,32 cm there would have been enough space to rest your legs in a comfortable way. It hadn't been time to increase the circulation in his legs directly after the train ride since mummy had sent the driver - Charles McKenzie worked for the family as long as Sherlock could remember - to pick them up.

Aside from the lacking in leg space the train ride had been great. He and John had had time to talk about what he would be allowed to do. John had been so stubborn in the beginning wanting to do everything by himself, even if it was wearing on him. Why couldn't he see that Sherlock just wanted to help him and accept it? But it had worked out, Sherlock was now permitted to change the diaper, bath, feed and rock Amalia even if it was the middle of the night - of course he was going to more than that as well. He was going to do his share and more of chores and shopping, anything to make it easier for John. The doctor had a little girl to raise after all and she deserved the best childhood possible.

His inner ramblings was interrupted by John when he got out of the car and tried to gather the bags at the same time as he balanced Amalia on one arm.

"Let me take that," Sherlock said putting a hand on John's shoulder and freeing Amalia's diaper bag from him with the other.

"But it is rather a lot," John protested gesturing to all the baby bags and the two not so small suitcase containing their clothes (babies are messy, one had to change their clothes a lot).

"I'm sure me and Charles can manage," Sherlock said, softly pushing John in the direction of the main door.

"Isn't that right Charles?"

"Aye, you just go inside with the little one Mister. Young Master and I will follow with the bags," the driver said starting to gather up the bags. A flash of amusement that Sherlock couldn't place crossed John's face but since the man just correct his grip around Amalia and started walking to towards the house he didn't pay it any attention. Sherlock heaved the diaper bag up on his shoulder and then took the bags Charles had left before following John. His long strides made him catch up quickly. Had they always had such difference in their normal speed of waking? How much had John hurried his steps up to always keep up with him? Or was this new speed because of Amalia? He was in the middle of a calculation comparing different speed of John's walk when the front door opened and mummy walked out.

"John, Sherlock so wonderful that you could make it," she greeted them.

"And how did travel agree with the little Amalia?"

"It agreed quit fine, she have been quiet all the way," John replied politely.

"She seemed very fascinated by watching the landscape pass by outside the window," Sherlock added as they walked through the doors.

"So were all of you too then you was that age," mummy commented with a fond half smile. John snorted.

"I can imagine that. I bet he was a handful as a child," he said and because of the smile that light up his face Sherlock forgave mummy for the comment on his childhood. It was nice to see John smile again – those exhausted forced in a sense of politeness smiled that had been common lately did not count.

"They all were," mummy laughed.

"And still are. I tried to get them all home for the weekend but Myc had something important to take of in Ukraine. At least you get to meet little Em at last."

"That will be nice I haven't had the pleasure," John said throwing a glare at Sherlock who shuffled his feet. Even if John hadn't said anything he got the feeling that not telling your roommate that you had another brother was a bit not good.

"Oh," mummy seemed surprised that John hadn't met Em and threw a glare of her own in Sherlock's direction.

"Well he has been busy. With his workplace blowing up, his promotion and everything," she tried to smoothen over with a wave of her hand.

"Anyway you three have Sherlock's room, Beatrice has put up a crib for Amalia. It is close to the old servant staircase to the kitchen," she quickly changed the subject - mummy couldn't stand the tenseness that came with underlying grudge, she had always made them talk out their issues with each other as children.

"Thank you," John said ever so politely. He must have been drilled hard into it as child; maybe it was why he made such a good solider.

"Do you mind terribly if we take our stuff upstairs and unpack a bit?" the doctor asked.

"Of course not! Take your time and refresh yourself, I will see you at the dinner," mummy said ushering them up the stairs. Sherlock led the way to his experiment took place in the little garden house (a good 100 m away from the main house) so there was nothing for Amalia to hurt herself on. They arrived to the door at the end of the corridor, which Sherlock opened and stepped aside to let John enter first. The room had been cleaned since he had been here last. All the books that used to be in piles on the floor had been returned to their shelf’s, all papers that used to be spread on every flat surface had been sorted in folders marked with things like "south-east corner", "north wall", "desk", "under the bed" etc. The bed had been made with royal blue silk sheet and at the foot of it stood Em's old crib.

"....It is very tidy," John said slowly with a slightly stunned expression as he went over to the old rocking chair - there did that come from? Sherlock was positive that it hadn't been any rocking chair in the whole house - and sat down.

"Beatrice have cleaned it up a bit," Sherlock said gesturing to the folders that had been given their own shelf over the desk. John snorted as he begun to read the titles - it was a nice sound to hear. John hadn't laughed like that for a long time. This trip had been a good idea. John was already looking more relaxed - the sight of John rocking back in the chair with a small smile on his face made a warm feeling spread in Sherlock's chest which he refused to classify.

"And the experiments?" the doctor asked curiously as it was experiments to be expected around Sherlock - John knew him to well.

"In the laboratory in the garden house. Mummy banned them from the house due to fire safety or something like that," he said as he opened the wardrobe - clothes were sorted after colour and shade - and started to hang their clothes in.

"Of course you had your own laboratory," John said with an amused voice. What was so funny about that? It was perfectly logical to have a separate place for experiments so they don't get affected by outside interference.

"Not my own. I had to share with Em. Half of it is mine dedicated to chemistry and half is his focused on computers and engineering. Sometime he drifted over to my part it was a bit annoying he is terribly neat, no idea there he got that from," he finished putting the clothes away, closed the wardrobe and turned around.

"This brother of yours seems really special, I look forward to meeting him," John said still smiling but Sherlock could see that his eyelids were getting heavier. Amalia, who so far had been quietly taking in the new surroundings, seemed completely alert.

"He is and a workaholic so he won't be here until dinner so why don't you take a little nap? I can Amalia down to the green room and entertain her," he proposed already picking up the bag containing some of Amalia's toys and slinging it over his shoulder. For a moment John looked like he wanted to protest but then he seemed to remember their talk on the train.

"Okay then just remember..."

"That she will need feeding in 23,7 minutes yes, I remember John," Sherlock said picking the girl up from John's arms and placing her on his right hip. This got another small snort out of the man.

"You got it covered then," he said raising himself from the chair and moving towards the bed. It was reliving to see how easy and natural it had become for John to sleep and change in front of him. They had become a part of each other's life in a way that felt so right and warm.

"Sleep well," he said as he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

 

~ Q ~

 

Q was not happy. He was sitting behind the wheel of his car that he normally would be delighted to drive speeding towards his family home. Because what was the meaning of having a gorgeous green car that he had tinker so much with that it hardly had any other brand then Q anymore if he didn’t break a few traffic laws with it? The source of his unhappiness was sitting in the passenger seat looking out of the window - no doubt memorising the way - and humming along with the radio. Still it could have been worse in the beginning Both 006 and 007 insisted on coming with him. Apparently doctor Watson's wife "Mary" ( _ **real name** : Rebecca Frost, **age:** 36, **occupation:** assassin for hire, **preferred weapon:** a small handgun, **killer count:** Unknown, went missing after a deal gone bad with Irish mafia boss believed dead._ ) had quite a reputation and 006 and 007 had insisted that he need bodyguards. It took a lot of convincing and pointing out that placing two trained killers in the same house as a skittish father who happened to be a highly trained army doctor wasn't a good idea.

Because 007 and Doctor Watson already had met they had decided (without listening to his protests that he didn't need a bodyguard. Honestly what did they think about him? He was the Quartermaster of MI6 and a Holmes. He could take care of himself!) that 007, James Bond was most suitable. With a sigh he started to pulled himself together (one of the extremely important lessons he had learned growing up with his family) as his family home came in view. It was a lovely white painted wood mansion with three floors, two wings and a lovely garden. Between the trees he caught a glimpse of the laboratory he and Sherlock had shared as children (maybe he would get some time to tinker this weekend that would be lovely).

"So this is where you grew up?" 007 asked. The first words they had exchanged since they had met up in the garage in the afternoon and Q had held up his keys and said 'I'm driving' and 007 had nodded.

"Yes", Q answered shortly, he didn't wish to talk about his childhood with a double-0. The conversation died down again and Q pulled up the car on the driveway. Methodically he shut the car down, put the alarm time on 10 minutes and grabbed his travel mug with the words "I take no responsibility for my action before my first cup of tea" formed into a cup printed on and stepped out of the car.

"The car alarm will activate in 10 minutes I suggest you are out of the car by then," he said as he opened the boot and removed his messenger bag (holding his laptop and tablet) and his small suitcase. 007 hurried to exit the car as fast as possible and grab his own suitcase, he had learned what "car alarm" meant in Q's world the hard way (Q was a bit pleased about this he deserved it after all the cars he had stolen and crashed). Before anyone could come out and great them Q opened the big doors and walked in.

"I'm home!" he yelled (announcing yourself was another important thing you learned by being a Holmes unless you wanted to fall victim for a rough experiment). To his big surprise it was Sherlock who showed up first caring a small blond girl on his left arm her dark blue dress matching her eyes.

"Good afternoon Em, would you please be a bit quieter?" (Yup his brother still was his stroppy self, good it couldn't be too bad then.)

"The baby already seem awake so I don't see the problem," Q fired back because that was the only way to handle Sherlock.

"Her name is Amalia," Sherlock huffed as if Q wasn't already aware of the baby's name ( _Amalia Lucy Watson, 9 month, currently living with her father John Hamish and Sherlock Holmes, abandoned by mother Mary Watson a.k.a. Rebecca Frost_ )

"And it is in consideration of John that I need you to be quiet. He is taking a nap."

"Awww how caring of you 'Lock, I can see the sweet couple mummy is taking about," Q says teasingly.

"Then you are delusional too Em. John is simply my friend and I'm worrying about him wearing himself down”, Sherlock huffed.

"You seems a bit misinformed, he is Q not M," 007 piped in (really couldn't that man learn when to keep his mouth shut, but then Q wouldn't have nearly as much work as he had).

"He was Em long before he was Q," Sherlock said the 'you imbecile' was quiet but well understood. Thankfully a forth voice interfered before a fight could start.

"Sherlock who's that?" All three men looked up (not the baby she was starring fascinated at Q), a top of the three stairs stood a very rumbled blond man wearing an beige cardigan.

"Now you woken him," Sherlock said annoyed handing over the baby girl to Q and arranging his grip to his satisfaction.

"Here take Amalia for a while and don't let your pet killer hold her," and with those words he was racing up the stairs.

"Who does he think he is fooling," Q comment as he watched Sherlock reach the top of the stair, mumble something to the doctor and slowly leading him back in the direction of Sherlock's bedroom with a hand lightly placed in the small of Watson's back.

"Who is fooling who?" 007 asked innocently (not that Q was fooled but he wanted to rant about it so he decided to answer).

"My brother, fooling anyone at all that he isn't head over heels for Doctor Watson. Really it couldn't be more obvious the way his is practically shining," Q huffed and 007 hummed.

"Lucky for him then that Watson swing booth ways," he commented. Q shot him a wondering eye.

"How exactly do you know that?"

"Well it was a very interesting night in Kabul....," was all 007 managed to get out before Q cut him off.

"On a second thought I don't need to know that about my brother-in-law."

"Brother-in-law?" 007 raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't Watson still married to Rebecca?"

"It is only a matter of time. Besides Doctor Watson married Mary and since she technically doesn't exist it shouldn't be a problem," Q waved him off and then looked down as he felt a tingle at his temple. The little girl he was holding had got a hold of one of his locks and was tugging it, since it didn't hurt too much and seemed to amuse her Q let her continue.

"Well I suppose we should introduce ourselves then Amalia," he said looking into the girls deep blue eyes.

"I'm your uncle and you can call me Q but Sherlock is most likely going to refer to me as Em. It is a pleasure to meet you little one," the only reply he got was a small giggle and a harder pull of his hair. A small smile played on his lips. Now that he had got over the first chock he felt that it would be kind of nice to be an uncle and little Amalia was adorable (not that he was going to admit it out loud. He had his reputation to think about).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? What was good? What was bad? Let me know in the comments.


	3. Time for dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for dinner in the Holmes manor and we get to know a bit more about everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who is back?! Yes yes I know it been a year but a lot have happened. But I haven't forgotten you and here is a brand new chapter for you all.

~ JW ~

 

John woke groggily, for the second time, from his nap this time from a gentle nudging on his shoulder and the sound of his daughters yodelling. The doctor blinked his eyes trying to get rid of the fog in his brain. When his sight focused he saw Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed holding his daughter their shirt respective dress in matching purple. Amalia seemed happy waving her toy around so the bell jingled. Wait purple dress? He could have sworn she wore the blue one a couple of hours ago...

"She made a mess, didn't she?" he asked then his mind coughed up with the rest of the world.

"Of course, she did John. She is a baby." Sherlock huffed.

"And you just had to match your clothes?" John teased as he sat up.

"Since the lady extended the mess to me I saw no reason not to pick outfits that worked well together," the almost stroppy reply came. John shook his head.

"Well you can't match me in too I know for a fact that I don't own anything purple," he couldn't help teasing Sherlock a bit. It was just too adorable that he had match his clothes with Amalia's, almost as if they were a little family. A warm fussy feeling was filling John and he could feel himself smiling, it had been a good idea to come here.

"On the contrary, there are quite a lot of good complementary colours to purple. I'm sure Amalia and I can find you something while you take a shower," Sherlock said looking dead serious. John had long ago stopped asking questions concerning how Sherlock knew exactly what he needed and for the clothing, well it was Sherlock's family they were having dinner with. Better let a Holmes pick the outfit so he didn't break any clothing code.

"Right be just a moment," John said heaving himself of the bed and grabbing a pair of clean pants on his way to the bathroom that was attached to Sherlock's room.

 

15 minutes later, when John exited the bathroom clad in the clean pants while rubbing his hair dry with a sinfully soft towel, he saw Sherlock laying something down on the bed - the clothes he picked probably. Amalia was lying on the soft play-carpet joyfully tugging on a small plushie-bee's wings.

"So, let's see what you picked out for me," John said softly. Sherlock turned around and for a moment John could have sworn that a blush crossed his face.

"See for yourself," Sherlock said stepping aside and sinking down on the floor next to Amalia. On the bed lay a pair of dark jeans, a clear-green shirt and one of John's favourite beige cardigans. It was a really nice combo of fancy and John's own style. The doctor smiled and started dressing.

 

When he was finished they went downstairs. John was carrying Amalia, who in her turned was carrying the little bee. In the saloon they entered it was already two men, a young one with wild curls and glasses wearing a brown cardigan and...

"You are still alive you suicidal wanker?!" John stared in disbelief at the blond man standing next to an armchair leaning his hip on it.

"Don't you have any respect for a doctor's hard work putting you back together again?! And what did you do to that shoulder?!" John continue ignoring two pair of confused eyes staring at him.

"A pleasure to meet you as always Captain," James Bloody Bond said with a smirk.

"Pleasure my arse. You only come to me when you have done something illegal and gotten hurt again" John fired back.

"Guilty on all charges," The bloody bastard was still smiling like he could charm his way out of this, not that that has ever worked on John.

"Sherlock, hold the baby." John said handing over Amalia and marched forward and started to poke at the shoulder and making James move his arm around.

"I need to see better," John said and James obediently took of his jacket. Through the tight shirt John could see how the muscular work and it seemed to be some pretty messy scar-tissue. John wanted to take a closer look at it so he waved his hand at the skirt and in silent understanding James removed the shirt, they had been through this so many times before. It really was some messy scar-tissue and John was just about to ask how long the bullet had been in this time when a sharp voice cut through the silence, disturbing his examination.

"007 PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!!!" John turned around to see the other man stare at them in a mix of horror, wonder and fascination.

"Of course Q," Bond replied, put on his shirt and begun buttoning it up while sending an apologising look John's way. John own look promised that he wasn't done with him just yet but he turned to the younger man who stood next to Sherlock and Amalia.

"I'm sorry I got carried away," John smiled and extended his hand.

"Given that I know that bloody bastard I'm guessing you are the mysterious brother. I'm John," he said tilting his head in the direction of James who now was fully dressed again. The man accepted the extended hand.

"Emanuel, but at work they call me Q. I have heard all about you John," Emanuel said with a polite smile.

"And I didn't know you existed until last week," John said with a glare in Sherlock's direction who handed him Amalia back thinking somehow would spare him.

"Ah well you know my brother and work has been busy," Emanuel attempted to an apologising look.

"Mhm," John let it slide for now and changed the subject.

"So how do you know this lunatic?" he said once again tilting his head towards James who stood a bit on the side trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly. Had he always been that easy to read or if he was picking up a thing or two from Sherlock?, John wondered.

"We, ah, work together," Q said.

"More like superior and agent. Remember that I told you my brother was a part of MI6, John?" Sherlock started explaining even if nobody asked him as usually.

"Well Em is the Quartermaster hence Q and your friend is one of his agent, a double-0 agent. 007 wasn't it, Em?" Sherlock continued and Emanuel looked like he regretted his earlier slip up.

"Sherlock, that is classified," he hissed glaring draggers at his brother.

"I promised John never to leave out information concerning our lives again," Sherlock said and before anyone could accuse him of for, God forbid, feelings continued.

"Beside given that John knows your agent he would have an idea of your work anyway.

"Bond," Bond spoke up

"James Bond"

"Does he..." Sherlock began.

"YES!" both Q and John cut him off.

"He always introduces himself like that," Q continue.

"Bloody annoying, never understood why people found it charming," John added while trying to save the little plush-bee from being chewed on. Not that it worked very well, Amalia could be very determined when she wanted. Before James had the chance to defend his honour Mrs Holmes swept through the door.

"Oh good you are all here," she smiled her sharp eyes scanning over the group.

"The dinner is served if you would follow me," and with those words she turned around and exited through the door she arrived from without looking back to make sure they followed. Smiling John shifted his grip on Amalia and followed. Really the family resemblance was obvious in both brothers and their mother.

 

~ SH ~

 

Sherlock followed a bit behind John and Bond as they walked towards the dining room.

"I was a bit surprised how Doctor Watson handled 007. Is he always like that?" Q spoke up.

"Yes, he is hard to ignore when he gets determined," Sherlock replied his mouth slightly tilting upwards as he studied John from the back. - It was fascinating really John always had at least half his focus on Amalia, shifting his grip so he held her firmly, bouncing her a bit so she wouldn't be bored, making sure that the bee didn't fall and all this while holding up a conversation with Bond. He seemed happy, probably because he had a similar minded friend to catch up with. -

"Even so 007 is known for not listening to anyone, but then again I shouldn't be too surprised Doctor Watson lives with you after all," Q said also watching the two men with a fascinated look in the eye.

"Wonder if he would teach me the trick. It could be very useful handling all the agents," he continued.

"Why is one of your agents even here?" Sherlock asked quickly tried to change the subject - how John made people obey him was a John thing and it would be very disturbing if that technique was passed on, especially to his brother-.

"Since when did family weekend become such a big security risk that it warrant a double-0?"

"Since never. He insisted on coming, they both did. It was let one tag along or have both of them on my tail. I imagine Doctor Watson wouldn't react well to that," Q defended himself, explaining a bit more than necessary as usually and Sherlock wasn't going to let that past.

”‘They both'?" he echoed as he slid into his seat.

"And don't tell me you can't lose a trail anymore Em?" he couldn't help tease his brother who sat down next to Bond - the sitting placing was such he and John at one long side, Bond and Emanuel on the other long side Bond opposite of John and the brothers opposite of each other. At the short end between John and Bond Mummy was seated. Amalia sat in a child chair screwed onto the table between Mummy and John happily altering between dropping her bee to get John pick it up or banging it on various surfaces. The place between him and Em was empty but set for Father. He was probably out in the garden or in his little work shop, botanist by profession and tinkerer in his free time Father always had some project on.-

"Of course I can, a normal one but we train our agent not too and unfortunately for this situation 006 and 007 is the best. I would want to seriously injure them," Q snorted.

"Thank you Q, didn't know you cared," Bond inserted and then did his best to hide a wince -it was hard to tell if it was Emanuel or John that had kicked him under the table, maybe both. For all Sherlock knew it could just as well been Mummy even if she was more the type to 'accidentally' press down the heel of her stiletto on someone's toes if she felt that they had been behaving inappropriately. He had seen her do it many times during the more political dinners she sometimes arranged.-

"Anyway," Q continued as if Bond hadn't spoken at all.

"006 is 007 partner in crime, Russian by birth, pyromaniac stroke going strong."

"Don't call them number by the dinner table, names Emanuel," Mummy scrolled and added as if she sensed a protest.

"And don't drag national security into this my clearances is still good enough."

"Sorry Mummy. Trevelyan and Bond was present when I received your email and my reaction caused them some alarm," Q said.

"Damn right it did, we figured something had blown up that wasn't supposed to blow up," Bond muttered utterly ignored by everyone.

"They later on helped my ID the supposed Mary Watson as Rebecca Frost. I'm sorry," he said turning to John.

"Your runaway wife is a known assassin, she was on our radar until a couple of years ago then she dropped off after a deal with an Irish mob boss had gone wrong." The whole room grew deadly quiet after the news, nobody seemed to know how to act. John gave him a curt nod in acknowledgement, all emotion hidden under a face Sherlock only seen him pull up in really serious situation to keep calm. - It was disturbing. John was not supposed to look like that, not anymore. They were here for a relaxing weekend so he could rest. Damn Mary for ruining it all again.- He was just about to deliver his own kick under the table as the door opened and his father entered. His father, as always, looked a bit like a Hobbit – yes he had read the Lord of the Rings and not deleted it, the books was fascinating and the movies was good as well – his red locks sticking up in an untameable mess with some twigs in it an dressed in a bright coloured waistcoat over a lose linen shirt and a pair of pant with small stain from the garden, his face lit up in a big smile then he saw his sons.

“Emanuel, Sherlock you are home!” he exclaimed happily.

“Listen I been working on this blue rose project and I think I almost succeeded. Do you want to have some stickling’s to take home and raise? It will brighten up that awful grey London, I simply don’t get how you live there of your own free will, a lot.” Their father rambled on happily completely unaware of the tension in the room.

“I’m sorry Father my work simply doesn’t leave enough time to give them the care they need,” Q said, the filthy liar. Even if it was true that he spent a lot of time at work, he managed to invent a machine who fed and watered his three cats he could easily fix something who watered the trice damned plant. Father Holmes turned his eyes hopefully at Sherlock.

“I… eh,” he began trying to find a way out of this without hurting his father’s feelings.

“They would be in danger of Amelia tearing them down,” he settled for. Their father sighted and turned to James.

“See what hopeless sons I have! What about you, young man? Would you like a rose?” The rest of the tension in the room disappeared with Bonds attempt to politely refuse the rose and the rest of the dinner was spent in pleasant conversation about gardening of all things. Sherlock cared little for the subject but since it kept John happy and smiling he threw himself into an explanation of various kinds of bees and their effects on different gardens.

 

~ Q ~

 

The dinner had gone well despite the tension surrounding Doctor Watsons wife Q thought as he entered his childhood bedroom with 007 tailing close behind him. His room looked as it always had a soft, cosy green; every inch of the walls covered in dark wood bookshelf and

extremely neat; the bed had been made up and a small cot was squeezed in between the desk and the bookshelf alphabetised N through to O. 007 eyes flicked around the room quickly probably gathering up all information he could about his quartermaster.

“I must admit that I’m surprised Q,” 007 said setting down his overnight bag next to the cot.

“How come?” Q asked as he started setting up his laptop and other equipment he needed to safely remote access Q-branch (009 was on a sensitive mission in Namibia which also was the latest spotting point of Rebecca Frost so he wanted to check in on her).

“I didn’t take you for the reading type,” 007 said tailing his finger over the back on the books at shelf P.

“Just because I work with computers doesn’t it mean I can’t enjoy a good book. Besides the power went out a lot then I was young, one of the curses of living on the countryside,” Q replied absently as he checked 009 biodata (everything seemed in order slightly heightened pulse but that was normal for an agent on a mission and her tracker placed her exactly where she was supposed to be. Thankfully some agents still followed orders.)

“It was nice seeing John again,” 007 said rapidly changing the subject.

“He is just the same but with greyer hair.”

“You seem to know Doctor Watson quite well,” Q comment as he accessed the latest report from R&D.

“Oh yeah he patched me up more than one time,” 007 smiled removing his suite jacket before throwing himself down on the cot and wincing the moment his back hit it.

“Bugger, where did you find this? Discarded from the military?” he complained.

“You don’t get to complain your spoiled bastard. You are an uninvited guest after all,” Q said without looking up.

“Q, what have I ever done to you to deserve this?” 007 said with an innocent voice who would have fooled almost anyone.

“Do you want the long or the short version? I got the list alphabetised,” Q fired back.

“Fair enough, still is there any chance I can convince you to share that nice bed of yours? I promise to behave,” 007 smiled charmingly. Q:s first thought was to answer with a frim “nope” but he was still curios about 007 connection to Doctor Watson so if he just played along a bit…

“Perhaps, if you told me a bit more about your relationship with Doctor Watson. Given the amount of times I seen you breaking out of medical and John only needed to give you a look for you to remove your shirt, I would say your relation runs a bit deeper than him just patching you up,” Q said spinning his chair around to face 007.

“If you wanted me to strip for you, you just had to ask Q,” 007 purred.

“Bed or cot, think carefully of how you reply 007,” Q said keeping a straight face. He was still a bit alarmed by one of his agent stripping in his mother’s living room (not that he hadn’t appreciated the sight. 007 was very well-built but in this context it was just wrong).  
“Biebers and threats, we will make a proper spy out of you yet,” 007 joked but quickly added when Q glared pointily first at the bed then the cot:

“We met during a mission in Kabul as I said. He helped me out a bit, he really is a crack shot - I would have him pinned for a sniper not a doctor. Then he preceded to stich me up while he told me exactly what a big idiot I was and asked me if I perhaps had a death wish?”

“I like Doctor Watson more and more,” Q said with a smile.

“He is a very likeable person,” 007 agreed before continuing

“So given I took him out for a drink to show my gratitude and saw exactly how he earned the nickname ‘Three Continent Watson’.”

“‘Three Continent Watson’?” Q lifted an eyebrow.

“Sure, got both the lads and the lassies, even managed to pull some of those American lads despite their hard drilled ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ culture.”

“Felt a bit threatened?” Q teased. (This was good news it seemed the doctor truly had nerves of steel and didn’t mind a male partner. There was hope to end this pathetic pinning on his brothers half).

“Me? Never. John became a friend since he had an interest in actually keeping me alive,” 007 said casually. Q hummed turning back to his computer wishing he had a cup of tea.

“So, have I earned my place in your bed?” 007 purred directly in his ear. Q forced himself not to react, damn those double 0’s they moved lighter than his cats.

“Sure, make yourself comfortable. I was not planning on sleeping much anyway,” Q replied absently rising up from his chair. 007 frowned a bit at the statement almost like he was worried. (What made it his business to worry about Q’s sleeping habits? If he was worried about Q’s health there was better ways to help - like not destroying his bloody equipment all the damn time.)

“Go lie down 007, I’m going to make a pot of tea. Good night,” and with those words Q left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? Do I still got it? I already started the next chapter so hopefully i will be up soon. Comments are more than welcomed!

**Author's Note:**

> That was the first charter. What did you think? Let me know in the comments.


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